


What Came Before

by Ezzy_Pie



Series: Truths The Bards Will Never Sing [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Circle of Magi, F/M, First Love, First Meetings, Forbidden Love, Life before the blight, Pre-Dragon Age: Origins, Templars in love, What if Cullen's crush wasn't one sided, author plays fast and loose with canon as she see's fit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:54:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25461244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ezzy_Pie/pseuds/Ezzy_Pie
Summary: Solana is a Circle mage. Cullen is a Templar.Their's is a love that should never be.Forbidden romance blooms.Darkness gathers across the land.And too soon the Warden's will be at the gates.
Relationships: (Past) Anders/Female Surana (Dragon Age), (Past) Greagoir/Wynne (Dragon Age), Carroll/Female Surana, Female Amell/Cullen Rutherford, Jowan/Lily (Dragon Age)
Series: Truths The Bards Will Never Sing [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1844215
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had this fic posted several years ago, but took it down. I have recently been playing Dragon Age again and felt inclined to pick it up again. Hope you like.
> 
> NOTE: Now updated and beta'd by the wonderful @unlmtdsky

Solona Amell sat cross-legged on a pile of stolen pillows on the floor of the great library, the downy softness doing little to prevent the icy chill of the stone floor from seeping into her bones. A soft bluish mage-light glowed softly at her side, illuminating the pages of her book. It was unsanctioned magic but quick to snuff out should templars appear.

"Still at it?" Anders' cheery remark broke through her concentration, and she glanced up from her book. His voice sounded too loud in the eerie quiet of the library.

"I told you she'd still be here."

She glared at the two approaching apprentices. Jowan, with his olive complexion, luscious ebony hair and even darker eyes, grinned widely at her. He was quite handsome, she supposed. He was her oldest and dearest friend. Jowan had claimed her friendship her first day at the Circle. He looked at her with a brotherly fondness which she returned with a sisterly affection.

Then there was Anders, smirking at her with a giant ginger cat asleep in his arms. He had dark blond hair and eyes like golden honey one could surely lose themselves in if one stared overlong. She smiled, Anders was certainly not one to get romantically entangled with. Sure they shared a genial flirtation, but it was all in innocent fun and nothing more. He was too much of a flight risk.

Anders had made so many escape attempts she didn't know how he wasn't bound and shackled in the furthermost corner of the Circle dungeon. He would be more likely to take the cat with him rather than any female companion.

"You were supposed to be here hours ago!" She pointed her finger accusingly at Anders before turning to glare at Jowan. "And where is Neria?"

"She is, ah, indisposed." The two apprentices tried and failed to suppress their growing smirks.

"Again? Really?"

Their deep baritones boomed loudly in the silent library.

"Stop it," she hissed. "We'll get caught. You know it's way past curfew. Jowan!" Her friend clamped both hands over his mouth while Anders buried his face into fluffy ginger fur.

"Anders, you promised you would help me with my Herbalism test."

"I don't know why you want my help, Solona you're an adequate enough healer to pass. Besides, you're Wynne's favourite." Anders shoved the cat into Jowan's arms and dropped onto the pile of cushions she had been sitting on. The ginger cat hissed and spat at Jowan until he dropped the animal, the cat slinking to Anders' side and curling into his lap.

"Are you serious?" Jowan huffed, plopping down beside his two friends, pulling a pilfered bottle of sacramental wine from his robes and leaning back on the cushions.

"I don't want to be adequate, Anders, I want to be great. And to be great, you need to learn from the best. Everyone knows you're the best healer in the Tower. You got a perfect score on your test." She immediately regretted the praise she provided him. His smirk broadened, and he practically oozed smugness.

Solona sighed heavily as Anders wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly to his side.

"Say it again, Sol," Anders whispered seductively in her ear. "Tell me again how _amazingly_ talented I am." He pulled away and burst into raucous laughter again, reaching for the wine bottle.

Solana rolled her eyes at her friend. "Ugh, must I?"

Anders raised his brows and feigned insult, casting his arm dramatically across his brow.

Solana groaned—the things she would do for a good grade. But it was important. It meant the difference between spending the rest of her days doing inventory in the stock room or cataloguing dusty tomes with the Tranquil and actually doing some good and helping people. It didn't hurt that being a healer offered the slight chance of leaving the Tower, albeit on short excursions and under templar guard, of course.

She briefly wondered if that had been Anders' original motivation for pursuing healing.

"Fine," she cleared her throat dramatically. Anders wasn't the only one with dramatic flair.

"Now, now, say it like you mean it, Sol. I want to feel your need."

"Maker's ass," Jowan muttered with a smirk, snatching the bottle back from Anders.

She brushed her unbound hair from her shoulders, primping and preening mockingly like some Orlesian noble.

"My dearest, most talented Anders, would you please do m––"

"Fuck!" She had never seen Jowan move so quickly in his life, the empty bottle slipping from his fingers and rolling away.

"What?"

"Templar! I saw a shadow. Go!" He scooped up the bottle and bolted across the floor, up the stairs and out of sight.

Anders murmured a hasty 'sorry' and ran, tossing the fluffy ginger unceremoniously over his shoulder.

Solona was left momentarily stunned. She ought to have known better than to be out after curfew. Wynne was going to kill her!

She heard the heavy footsteps now. Quickly, she shoved books under the cushions, snuffed out the light, shoved her notes into her pockets and scrambled to her feet, hastening a quick retreat.

She sprinted around the corner.

Right into a solid wall of steel.

She bounced off, landing heavily on her backside on the floor with a thud, wincing on impact. That would surely hurt tomorrow.

Instinctively, she curled into a ball, awaiting the inevitable beating that would certainly follow.

"I'm sorry," came a startled voice. "Are you alright?"

What? Why wasn't she getting kicked in the gut right now? Solona carefully peeled her hands from her face, her whole body shivering with fear. A hand was reaching for her, offering her assistance. Was it a trick? Would he smack her down the minute she dared take his hand, the second she stood?

She peered up from her place on the floor. She didn't recognise him. Neria had said there was a new templar arriving today.

He was leaning down, the soft glow of the candle in his hand highlighting his features. A mop of unruly red-gold curls adorned his head like a golden crown, and he had wide amber eyes with thick, dark lashes. He had a perfectly straight nose and high cheekbones. His jaw was strong and chiselled, definitely masculine, with light stubble visible because of the shadows cast across his face.

But the most startling thing was the sincere and genuine kindness in his eyes. Solona had never seen that in a templar. He was young, though, maybe nineteen or twenty. He couldn't be more than a year or two older than herself. That the Chantry would one day twist that kindness into something sour and hateful was almost heartbreaking.

She realised she had been staring too long when he awkwardly cleared his throat. She tentatively took his offered hand, surprised when he didn't snatch it from her but pulled her to her feet. He tugged a little too hard, and she was hauled against his chest. She grasped his shoulder plates to brace herself, his free hand going to the small of her back to stop her from falling. She froze, unmoving, and his hand lingered. His fingers brushed against the coarse wool of her robes.

Solona swallowed hard. "I...I'm sorry, Ser." She shuffled her feet, slowly retreating from him. He made no move to stop her, dropping his hand from her back. "I...I...was studying... I have a test..."

_Just go! Run before he smites you down where you stand!_

"You should get to your room," the templar said in a nervous voice. A small, shy smile quirked at the corner of his mouth. Her stomach flipped, and she found herself staring at his lips.

He was beautiful.

"Miss?"

Solona felt the colour rise to her cheeks, and she snapped her eyes to his. He was staring at her, confusion marring his brow.

Maker's breath!

"I...yes, sorry..." She turned and ran from the library.

****

"Cullen!"

"Ah...yes...what...I wasn't!" He felt the heat on his face.

"You were staring at Mage Amell again." Carroll snickered, nodding towards the girl perusing the library shelves.

She was strikingly beautiful. Her luscious golden locks were tied back in a severe ponytail, not unbound and free like that night in the library several weeks ago.

He had never held a woman as close as he had that night.

Her eyes were bright emeralds, he'd never seen eyes so green. High, delicate cheekbones suggested she came from a noble family, unlike himself, a homespun farm boy whose hands still bore small scars from working on his father's farm.

Hers were soft and delicate.

Fraternisation with the mages was absolutely forbidden, yet he saw her face every night when he closed his eyes. He couldn't help but watch her as she roamed the Circle halls.

It did not bode well for him to be developing affections for a mage.

"You're doing it again," Carroll smiled. "Barely been here a month and already making eyes at the mages."

"No, I'm...it's not..." Cullen expelled an exasperated breath, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

"She is quite pretty," Carroll continued. "No one would hold it against you were you to... make your affections known to her. Just don't let Greagoir find out."

Cullen stared in astonishment as Carroll winked at the dark-haired elven girl with Solona, who in turn blew him a kiss. After quickly assuring himself that no prying eyes were around, Carroll made a show of catching the kiss and tucking it into his pocket with a smile.

Cullen's mouth dropped open in shock. Carroll's behaviour was highly inappropriate.

He raked his hand through his hair. Carroll laughed, drawing Solona's attention. The elven girl waved brightly at them before Solona snatched her hand down, scowling at her friend.

Cullen felt he was about to combust from embarrassment.

"Calm down, Cullen. Library detail is incredibly dull, and you're still new. Anyway, they are leaving, look." Cullen raised his head, and sure enough, the two young women were headed toward them.

"Hello, Cullen," the dark-haired elven girl smiled. Solona blushed scarlet, grasping her friend's arm and hurrying past.

His heart skipped a beat when she cast a glance back, a ghost of a smile on her lips.

That was the moment Cullen knew for certain he was doomed.


	2. Chapter 2

"Admit it, you like him."

Solona scowled across the breakfast table at Neria. The elven woman's eyes sparkled, mischief dancing in the silvery orbs as she shoved a forkful of scrambled eggs into her mouth.

"Why won't you just admit it? I see you watching him. You blush whenever he walks by, and I know for a fact he likes you." Neria lowered her voice to a conspiring whisper. "Carroll has told me."

"We are just friends, Neria." It was true that a tentative friendship had blossomed between herself and Ser Cullen. If shy greetings, tentative smiles and blushing cheeks could be called such.

"Solona, the man looks at you like a sad puppy. The whole Tower can see it."

"He's a templar, Neria. They are here to enforce the Chantry's law. They are all the same, no matter how nice they appear to be," she snapped, unable to keep the bitterness from creeping into her voice. It was the harsh truth of the situation and what she told herself at night when the handsome templar had invaded her dreams.

It was a path best left untraveled.

"They are not all the same, Solona."

Solona snorted. "You think Carroll wouldn't strike you down if Greagoir ordered it? Make you Tranquil on the Knight-Commander's say so? He wouldn't hesitate to do his duty even if you are sleeping with him, and you know it." Solona regretted her cruel words the second they left her mouth, regretted that she let her cynicism seep through.

Neria didn't deserve her ire.

Her friend was staring at her with wide, shining eyes, her dark hair framing her now crumpling features. Neria was a fool if she thought Carroll would forsake his duty for her.

"He loves me, Solona."

"As if that means anything."

"It means everything." Neria's voice was so low and full of anguish, Solona could barely hear her. She could have ripped out her own bitter tongue out.

Who was Solona to judge? Neria was happy. Was her friend not entitled to grab for the small amount of happiness their caged existence allowed? Neria found it with Carroll; Anders found it in the hope of freedom. And what did she do? She kept her nose buried in books, never straying from the strict rules that dictated her life.

Solona reached out and took her friend's trembling hands. "I'm sorry, Neria, I didn't mean it." Neria locked eyes with her, a few tears having escaped, trailing down her cheek.

"Yes, you did." Neria pulled her hand away, pushing her eggs around the plate in front of her.

Guilt for speaking so harshly sat like a weight on her chest. Why did she say such hurtful things?

"I am sorry, Neria."

Silver eyes met her own.

"Do you honestly think I'm so naive that I haven't thought about it, all those things you said? I think about it constantly, but don't I deserve something, some small scrap of this world that is mine, that they can't take from me?" Neria swiped furiously at her tears. It wouldn't do well to draw attention to their conversation.

"You say that he's a templar, he has a duty. Yes, he does. I live with that reminder daily. But do you think he doesn't live with that also? That I am a mage, and an elven one at that? That every night I have to contend with demons that would possess me? That I might fail my Harrowing when I'm called, become an abomination?"

Solona had no words. She honestly hadn't thought about it from Carroll's perspective. And Neria wasn't wrong, she did like Cullen. He was sweet and kind and treated the mages well. She occasionally caught him looking at her, colour rising to his cheeks as he offered a bashful smile before turning away.

"I am sorry; I shouldn't have said what I did. But you're not wrong, Neria, I do like him."

"Then why? He obviously likes you, too."

"He's a templar." Solona sighed. "It can't ever be anything real."

Neria smiled softly, raising a brow, the teasing light in her eyes creeping back. "Do you think what I have with Carroll is not real?"

"I didn't mean... shit... Neria..."

The elven woman smiled.

"I know what you meant. But it's worth it, Solona. Some days, this place..." Neria shook her head before continuing. "And then, some days, I get to be with Carroll, and on those days, this tower feels less like a prison. I have someone who loves me, Solona, for me, and when we're together, he's not a templar and I'm not a mage. We're just Carroll and Neria. Two people who love each other." She reached across and grasped Solona's hands firmly between her own.

"I want that for you. It is no less real for us in here than it is for them out there. You deserve to carve out a sliver of happiness for yourself, Solona."

Solona remained silent, thinking hard about Neria's words as they return to their breakfast.

****

Solona left the breakfast hall, grabbing a handful of chocolate chip biscuits and shoving them deep in her pockets. She had come to a surprising realisation over her plate of eggs. She did want those things, everything Neria had spoken of. All of them.

Neria was right. Why shouldn't she have something for herself? The Chantry had dictated her life for as long as she remembered, tearing her from her mother's arms when she was only five years old.

She couldn't remember her mother's face anymore, only that she shared Revka Amell's golden locks. She brought her fingers to her throat, brushing the pendant that belonged to her mother, the only memento from her life before the Circle.

While other apprentices received letters from their families, name day gifts and such, she had received none. Jowan and Neria still received letters from their families, and even Anders would get the occasional letter from his mother, usually scolding him for his latest escapade.

She had been completely cut off after being taken from her home by templars.

Forgotten.

Solona came up short before the library door. Cullen was on duty inside. Did she dare pursue him like Neria thought she should? Make her intentions known like her heart wanted? Or keep him at a distance?

Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the heavy door.

****

Cullen heard soft footsteps approaching. It was still early; most of the apprentices were still at breakfast. A few of the mages had begun passing through the library, and Senior Enchanter Wynne was busy preparing an herbalism lesson for the young children.

The faint smell of lavender and lilacs invaded his senses as Solona approached. Cullen tried to suppress the smile that threatened to split across his face when he saw her. 'Her hands were shoved into the pockets of her robes, and she hung her head low so as to not draw any undue attention to herself, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth as she hurried towards him.

His heart beat a rapid tattoo in his chest, beating so loudly he was sure the entire library could hear and skipping several beats when he realised she was walking toward him. Usually they exchanged no more than the passing pleasantries and half smiles, but today...

He reached up, rubbing unconsciously at the back of his neck.

"Cullen, I..." Her words faltered as she stopped in front of him, searching for words and worrying her bottom lip.

"Mage Amell," he nodded stiffly, unsure of what she wanted. She looked down, shuffling her feet nervously before lifting her face to his, a brilliant, blinding smile gracing her delicate pink lips, the image warming his blood. He found himself staring, wondering how soft they were, how his lips would feel pressed against hers…

"I never thanked you, when we first met. For not reporting me. You could have told Greagoir or Irving, but you didn't. So thank you." She stood awkwardly in front of him. Cullen tore his gaze from her lips, running his hand through his hair, fidgeting nervously as heat rushed to his cheeks.

"I, ah…you're welcome… M…Miss Amell." If she had noticed him staring so brazenly, she didn't mention it. She smiled gently up at him, he towered over her by at least a foot.

Solona fished around in her pockets and held out her hand to him. When he just stared dumbly at her, she reached for him, turning his palm up. The shock of her soft hands grasping his own calloused one sent a sharp thrill through him, and he had to force himself from flinching. Her hand was warm and soft, her thumb tracing circles on his open palm. He was sure he stopped breathing altogether as she stood in the library caressing his hand.

Remembering herself, she placed two biscuits in his hand, closing his fingers over the baked goods.

"I brought you these… for later." She didn't look at him, her emerald gaze remaining focused on their hands where her slender fingers lay over his larger ones, semi-entwined. "I know you're not supposed to leave your post. You must get hungry." She shrugged and finally looked up at him.

"Th…Thank you," Cullen breathed, and once again she bestowed a beautiful smile on him. She quickly scanned the room to make sure no prying eyes watched them, and before he knew what she was about, she pulled her hand from his, raised herself on tiptoes and planted a hasty peck to his lips.

Before Cullen could even grasp what had just transpired, she was hurrying away from him. As she walked away, Cullen could not help notice the gentle sway of her hips.

The sound of a throat clearing drew his attention. His gaze met that of Wynne's across the room. The older woman waggled her finger at him, having caught him ogling Solona's ass.

Heat burned his cheeks, and Cullen didn't think he could blush any deeper.


	3. Chapter 3

"Have you heard if Anders passed his Harrowing?" Solona asked Jowan, who was gazing somewhat wistfully into the distance. She followed his gaze, seeing nothing but the tops of the library stacks.

"Jowan!" Solona waved her hand in front of her friend's face, finally drawing his attention.

"Huh, oh...what?"

Solona frowned. "Where were you just now? You've been so distracted lately." Jowan turned to her, his dark gaze still miles away.

"Sorry, Sol. What did you say?"

"I asked if you had news of Anders." Solona raised a brow at her friend as his mind wandered again. Jowan had not been himself recently, and it was not like him to fall prey to bouts of day dreaming.

"Jowan! Did Anders pass, or am I to assume he's currently an abomination?" She shoved his shoulder hard and glared at him until he looked at her.

"Hmmm...oh, yes, he's fine. Sleeping it off."

"What is with you lately?"

His gaze slid to hers before he quickly looked away, cracking his fingers.

She narrowed her gaze at her friend, whispering low. "Jowan. You have a secret."

"What? No I don't."

"Yes, you do. You can barely make eye contact, and you crack your fingers when you're nervous. Stop that!" Solona slapped at his hands, dragging him behind the library stacks by the scruff of his robes.

"Tell me," she urged, whispering conspiratorially like they did as small children, when in fact she had turned eighteen just last week and Jowan was closer to nineteen.

He hesitated, a deep frown marring his brow. Now she was worried. They told each other everything. He was her best friend. She loved Anders and Neria, too, but Jowan was like a brother to her.

"Jowan, what did you do?"

"Nothing," he answered a little too hastily. Solona's eyes narrowed once more on her friend.

'You're a terrible liar, Jowan. How bad is it? I will help you if I can."

"It's nothing, really. I...I met a girl, if you must know." Jowan seemed way too agitated for someone who had just met a girl. Then she thought of Cullen.

No, perhaps he was the right amount of agitated.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"She doesn't want anyone to know?"

Solona couldn't help the hurt that stabbed at her heart. Since when was she just _'_ _anyone?'_

"Why? You're a catch, all the girls in my quarters adore you. Why wouldn't...oh, Jowan, it's not Petra? Tell me it's not Petra. You know she has that on again off again thing with Kinnon. She will break your heart." Solona scowled at him. If he'd gotten mixed up with that harpy, she would have to set him straight.

"No, Sol, it's not Petra. I promise."

"Then why can't you tell me?"

Jowan sighed heavily, "It's...because...because it's new. And she asked me not to tell anyone."

Solona raised a sceptical brow. Jowan deserved better than to be someone's dirty little secret.

_Says the mage pining for a templar._

"Alright, Jowan, but remember we don't keep things from each other. I told you about Cullen."

Jowan laughed. "Sol, there's no secret there. You've been bringing him baked goods for weeks. You haven't even kissed him yet."

"I have, too," she protested lamely.

"A peck on the lip, one time, does not count," he hummed, leaning back against the shelves, crossing his arms across his chest and smirking at her.

"I've kissed you." She jabbed her finger in his direction.

Jowan snorted, "Kissing me on a dare when you were twelve doesn't count either."

Solona crossed her arms in a huff, scowling at him.

"Cullen will never kiss you with your face looking like that—ouch!" Jowan winced as she slapped his shoulder.

"Stop it!"

****

Cullen watched as Solona dragged the dark-haired young man into the library stacks.

His jaw tightened, and his brow creased as he frowned.

He'd been a fool to think his childish crush had been reciprocated. She was a mage after all; she would never trust him.

But had he truly misread her attentions?

For weeks now she had been bringing him biscuits or pastries from the breakfast hall, chatting quietly for a few minutes each morning. He was now able to stand in her presence and not feel the heat burning his cheeks. She hadn't tried to kiss him again, however.

Was he mistaking kindness for affection?

"You have nothing to worry about, you know."

Cullen almost jumped out of his skin. He hadn't heard Carroll approach.

"I do not know of what you speak, Ser Carroll."

"Oh come on, Cullen, your affection for Solona Amell is the worst kept secret in the Tower. And you've been staring rather aggressively at those shelves there." Cullen bristled at Carroll's words, shuffling uncomfortably at his post. The two templars turned their gaze to the two apprentices emerging from the book stacks. The young man was scowling at Solona's smiling face.

"Cullen, you need to talk to her or more rightly, kiss her. ANYTHING. You two have been dancing around each other for months now. It really is becoming quite difficult to watch." With that said, Carroll pushed Cullen from his post, shoving him toward the young mage.

"I will cover you for a time, Cullen. Go."

"I…I…" Carroll shook his head and waved him off. Cullen turned toward Solona and took his first tentative step. What would he say? He couldn't just drag her behind the stacks and kiss her. Could he?

"Hello, Cullen," Solona smiled brightly at him. The young mage excused himself, but not before wiggling his brows at Solona, to which she gave him a hard shove, her lyrical laugh filling his ears.

"I…"

_What now? Maker!_

"I am glad you are here, Cullen."

_She was?_

"I would have a word if you please." She didn't wait for him to answer, but walked back into the rows of books. He could do naught but follow.

When she reached the very back of the aisle, she turned to him, a look Cullen didn't recognise smouldering in those piercing green eyes.

"Miss Amell…"

His words were cut short by her hands cupping his face, his breath catching in his throat at the sudden contact. His gaze locked with hers. She looked… scared? She leaned up on tiptoes and brought her lips to his ear, her warm breath fanning across his cheek. The soft scent of lavender invaded his senses.

"Please, Cullen… Call me Solona." And then her soft, delicate lips pressed gently against his.

****

Closing her eyes, Solona planted a soft kiss to Cullen's lips, cupping his face between her hands. She felt him stiffen beneath her touch, and she pulled away. She opened her eyes, heat flooding her face. Cullen was staring: slack-jawed, wide-eyed and red-faced.

Sweet Andraste! Had she completely misunderstood?

"Cullen...I...sorry… If I've...overstepped... misunderstood...I thought…" Solona felt the humiliation rising, her face burning with embarrassment.

He blinked, running his hand nervously up the back of his neck. He was uncomfortable. He opened his mouth and then closed it. He simply stared, blinking and not speaking. Solona silently begged for the ground to swallow her whole, to save her from her colossal mistake as she hung her head and took a step back.

"Fuck it."

She heard his mumbled curse, and her head snapped up as Cullen grabbed her face, pulling her in for a searing kiss. Walking her backward several paces until her back hit the bookshelves, his mouth claimed her in a kiss full of fire and passion as his lips moved over hers.

This was so unlike the shy, young templar she had come to know. His kiss burned hot across her lips, scorching her, igniting a fire in her belly. A feeling unknown spread throughout her body, and she began to tremble uncontrollably in his arms. She moaned softly against him, running her fingers through his mop of golden curls as his lips slanted over hers, his tongue plundering the depths of her mouth.

He pushed against her, crushing her between him and the shelving, her small breasts pressed painfully to him as his tongue danced along the edge of her kiss-bruised lips before delving into her mouth once more, caressing her tongue with his own.

Maker! Where did a templar learn to kiss like that?

One large hand slid from her face to thread itself through her hair, cradling the back of her head, the other sliding down her back and lower to cup her arse, pulling her hard against him.

Solona let out a startled gasp as she felt his hardness between her thighs. Red hot desire coursed through her, and she couldn't help but buck against him. A groan rumbled from deep in Cullen's chest as she squirmed against his erection.

He tore his lips from her, breaking the kiss suddenly, and Solona blinked away the lusty haze from her eyes, a whimper escaping her at the loss of his lips on hers. He was breathing heavily, giving her sheepish smile.

"I'm sorry...that...was too much." He blushed scarlet, and she couldn't stop from throwing her arms about him and lying her head against the cool steel of his breast plate.

"No, Cullen, it was a perfect first kiss."

"First... I thought..."

"Jowan? No. He's my best friend, but nothing more. He's like a brother."

Cullen smiled, more broadly than she had ever seen.

"Your hair..."

He reached out and smoothed down her mussed locks. Her gaze swept to his own mop. It was sticking up everywhere.

"Yours isn't much better," she laughed, reaching up on tiptoes to smooth the errant hair down. Cullen wrapped his arms about her, dropping a soft kiss to her crown. She sighed and stepped from him.

"I best be getting to my lessons. We shouldn't linger, someone might see. I'll see you later." She planted a soft on his cheek and walked away.

****

Cullen watched her go, releasing a breath and raking his hand through his hair, undoing Solona's attempts to smooth it down.

He was a little embarrassed at his loss of control. He didn't know what had gotten into him. She had been so warm and willing in his arms, returning his kiss with a passion of her own; the feel of her against him was not something he would soon forget.

Composing himself, he strode from the stacks. He glanced about. Solona was gone, but his eyes locked with that of Wynne, the older mage raising a quizzical brow in his direction and waving her finger at him at him yet again.

Maker! The woman was everywhere.

Though even Wynne's disapproval couldn't keep the grin off his face for the rest of the week.


End file.
